To flit before the mental eye; yet thought
Rolls on in fulness, like a mountain stream
Deep, sweeping, vast, but ’neath the clouds of night
Silent and unrevealed. Such most is felt
When many persons, actions, words, and things
Have passed before us quickly; then they crowd
The mind too fully, to let each stand out
In individual being; but they all
Are lodged within the memory, and come forth
So fresh and vital, during future days,